I am the leaves
on the streets you walk on
The unexpected shadows
I'm the scrap of paper
upon which you absentmindedly scribble dark things
I'm the bird in the trees
you always hear but never see
I'm a daisy, or a clover
in a garden of huge sunflowers and roses and oak trees
Or the bottles you keep hidden in your room
I am the sunbeam you feel
but you can't turn around to look at because the room is too small
I'm the hole in the curtain
I'm the notebook
you forgot about long ago
I'm the fish in the murky pond
-you can see the ripples and waves but you can't see me
I am bits and pieces
Here and there, now and then
I'm a mustering hum,
picking up, growing
Gathering momentum